Beat your way through
by Jubilee7
Summary: A tough case turns even worse. Jane will have to face the fact that he's not the only one suffering. Jisbon. Team. Rated T for language, some violence, and suggestiveness.
1. Chapter 1

_The Mentalist _is my new obsession, so first thing I did after having watched a couple of episodes was to jump on to find if anything had been written on it (and of course it had). And like all my new obsessions I couldn't help myself but ship, hence my love for the Jane-Lisbon couple. Of course I love Rigsby-Van Pelt, they're so cute. And Cho _rocks_. Period.

Okay, I'm done rambling uselessly. Hope you enjoy. Also it's not beta-ed and English is not my mother language so if you find any mistakes or weird formulation, do point it out so I can correct it.

I tried to build the story as an episode, so it's going to be case centered _at first_, but fear not, the more 'personal' stuff will be coming soon.

Thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer: **_The Mentalist _and its characters are not mine (except for those you don't recognize). I'm just venting my frustrated imagination on them.

* * *

_Cold. And leaking._

_That will be her last memory._

_Ever._

*******

**Beat your way through**

Cho was going crazy. If he had to watch Rigsby and Van Pelt making cow eyes and shy smiles at each other one more time he was going to scream. They should _not_ be enjoying themselves when paperwork was one of the least enjoyable tasks known to man.

It had been a slow week. No crime serious enough that local police couldn't handle and no crime "public" enough that special ops hadn't to handle. So catching up on paperwork had been the CBI Serious Crimes Office's priority for the last three days. Cho was beginning to believe that some little fucker sneaked in at night to restack their never-depleting pile of report. Meanwhile a certain mountain of a man colleague and their pretty red hair teammate were in the 'we're-melting-for-each-other-but -can't-possibly-let-people-know' phase (according to Cho and Jane's estimations those two were down to at least three dates). The downside to it, apart from suffering their honey-gooey romance all day long, was that Rigsby was trying to keep up with his girlfriend-imposed diet, but was still raiding the staff kitchen as he claimed that carrots and celery sticks failed to provide sufficient energy for work. Some people had started bringing in their own lunches to be guaranteed food throughout the day. Others had tried to complain to Lisbon but she'd send them away _manu militari_ saying that she was neither their nanny nor the food keeper.

Cho felt guilty about getting fed up with the workload when his boss had just as much _and _she was regularly arguing with their new boss, the honorable mister Rowman, who was determined to make Lisbon's job a living hell. When work was slow higher-ups had more time to look deeper into recent reports and Lisbon had been regularly called to defend her team (mostly Jane) legitimate dodgy actions (Jane's again) during past cases. Whenever someone knocked on her door they were treated to The Lisbon Death Glare, the one saying _This better not be about Jane again or so help me… _

Cho could see she was on edge, desperate for a new case, and so he tried to help her as best as he could at the moment: by shutting up and do his job.

Lisbon wasn't the only one waiting for a case. Jane had littered his desk with the entire animal kingdom in origami. Cho hoped that he would continue entertain himself as long as possible.

Then the phone rang in Lisbon's office.

She froze.

_Hallelujah. A case._

"Alright. We're on our way. Thank you sir."

Lisbon marched in the bullpen adjusting her holster, and said the magic words. "Pack it up, guys. We've got a case."

"Where to, boss?" Rigsby asked enthusiastically, ripping his jacket off the back his chair.

"Santa Rosa."

Jane promptly leaped to his feet, leaving his half-finished kangaroo behind.

*******

Lisbon had briefed them in the car. Young girl beaten up, found in an abandoned workhouse up in field on the outskirts of town.

Climbing out of the car Jane watched the usual ballet of local cowboy-looking police officers. Stetson, aviator-style sunglasses, thumbs hooked through belt loops, ridiculously massive gun strapped on one hip and shiny badge on the other. Jane managed not to roll his eyes. _Talk about compensating. _

"Sheriff Gallagher? Agent Lisbon, CBI." Lisbon called out as the eldest of the policemen approached.

"Hi. Glad you could come so fast. We could really do with your help." The Sheriff explained while shaking Lisbon's hand. _Brief yet firm handshake. Good._ It meant that he was all business yet cooperative. She always dreaded the turf wars.

"We won't just help. We're taking over the investigation, but we will fill you in at all steps." Lisbon explained politely. She was always more inclined to be nice when dealing with honest professionalism.

"Good. Here's the body. Arthur Thompson over there is the one who found her." The Sheriff explained while walking Lisbon to the body. Jane was already crouched over it, while Cho was finishing taking notes from the coroner.

"Pamela Allen. Eleven years old. She lives in town with her mother Mandy Allen, and her little brother Nelson. Mister Thompson says he found her around 10:15, stacked behind this pile of wood planks. We received the call at 10:17 exactly."

Lisbon crouched next to Van Pelt who was already examining the body. Pamela. She was recognizable only because half her face wasn't swollen. Lisbon fought the urge to wipe off the dirt from the girl's face. Van Pelt shook her head in indignation.

"How can anyone do that to a kid?" Lisbon didn't answer. _You'd be surprised._ Cho's voice cut through her thoughts, helping her get a grip. She stood up and looked straight at her agent, giving him her undivided attention.

"The coroner says the death dates back to last night, probably around 7 or 9pm. He'll confirm as soon as he gets the results. She was beaten to death. The killer either lured her here or carried her post mortem to hide the body."

"I'd go for carried post mortem." Jane interrupted, scanning the area. "Today is Saturday. Yesterday was Friday, hence she had school. Even if she took her time getting home or was lured here after school, she would have her school bag."

"Could have been ditched elsewhere." Cho offered.

"Possible but unlikely. Why would the killer go through the trouble of hiding the body somewhere and her school bag elsewhere? Sheriff, was a school bag or the like found in the area?"

"No."

"The area doesn't look like the ideal playground. She doesn't have dirt on her hands, knees, nor socks, which mean she wasn't playing here. If the death dates back to yesterday _night_, my guess is that the killer indeed carried her here after having killed her. Also, the killer either knew that this place was rarely frequented, therefore wasn't afraid of anyone finding her, or he knew someone would sooner rather than later find her, which tells us he's confident he'd be unsuspected." Jane turned towards his audience to finish his speech, hands stuffed in his jacket's pockets. "So I'd say we are looking for a fairly educated man who lives in town. A lot of people know him but he doesn't draw attention to himself. Not a high ranked job. And no one would suspect him of violent behavior."

"Does he always do that?"Gallagher asked Lisbon, not even trying to be discreet.

"Yes. It's his job. Patrick Jane is our consultant." Lisbon explained matter-of-factly.

"Hi." Jane smiled at the Sheriff and shook his hand. Gallagher didn't think he wanted to know the details. Rigsby came back towards them, stuffing a notepad and pencil in his pocket.

"Right, boss. I've got Arthur Thompson's statement."

"Good. Sheriff Gallagher, are there any reports of violent behavior in town? If so we are going to need those please. Rigsby, Cho, you'll dig from there. Van Pelt, I need you to go to Pamela's school, ask when she was last seen, and if anyone knew where she was going. Also, find out if this place is a known spot where kids hang out."

With a respectful nod and a prompt 'yes boss' the team was on its way. Cho turned briefly, lingered one last look at his boss. This would be a tough one, he feared.

"Jane? Let's go see the family." Lisbon announced. Jane simply nodded and followed her. He noted how her voice had been softer at that last sentence. He knew she hated to bring the bad news to the families. One of the many things he was grateful for as not being an agent, he never had to be the fated messenger. It wasn't his job, so he could avoid it as much as possible. Which he did. But Lisbon couldn't, especially not as Senior Agent.

Getting into the car, Jane smiled softly. It was the first time that Lisbon had introduced him as 'our' consultant.

*******

"Oh no! My baby! My poor baby!"

Lisbon waited patiently for Pamela's mother to shed a few tears before being harassed with questions. That was the hardest part. As people they had to respect their grief. As agents of the law, they had a murderer to catch. How do you quantify the time between respect and your job? Lisbon squeezed her hands together before speaking.

"Mrs. Allen, I know this is hard but we need to ask you a few questions… The sooner we do the sooner we can let you grieve."

Mandy Allen sniffled loudly one last time, crushing a wet tissue to her mouth.

"I'm sorry. It' just… It's just so hard to believe."

Lisbon offered a soft 'I understand' and gently pressed a hand on the woman's shoulder. Jane watched her do so from where he was standing against the living room sideboard. Well one thing was sure, Mandy wasn't faking. Jane perused the living room. A few toys were scattered on the floor, laundry piled on top of the dining table along with empty plates from breakfast no doubt, TV magazines hapazardously stacked in a corner near the television, a basket ball rested under the coffee table, and the sofa and matching armchair on which Mrs. Allen and Lisbon were seated had seen better days, in a distant past. Tragedy or not, the woman couldn't handle herself, nor her family for that matter.

"Mrs. Allen when did you last see your daughter?" Lisbon began. The mother gathered herself a little and managed to answer the question.

"Um… Yesterday morning, before she went to school."

"And last night?"

"No. I work until late at a restaurant, Wendy's. I finish around eleven or so. When I get home the kids are already in bed."

Lisbon glanced up from her notes, intrigued. "Pamela was in bed when you came home last night?"

Mrs. Allen fidgeted on the sofa. "I… I don't know. I suppose. I-I didn't check. You see, when I get home I'm beat. It's a popular restaurant, especially on Fridays, it's really tiring. When I get home the kids are already in bed. It's always like that, so I don't always check. I mean, it's always like that."

Lisbon concentrated on her notes in order to hide her shock. The woman had fallen asleep yesterday when her daughter was outside, cold dead, miles away.

"Where's your son?" Jane interrupted.

The mother snapped her head towards him, a little taken aback, as if just remembering he was there. "Um, next door, with Mrs. Wilkinson. She's our neighbor. I-I didn't want him to be here for all this."

Jane simply nodded but kept staring at her, which visibly unnerved her.

"I understand you're divorced." Lisbon pursued. "Do you still maintain contact with your ex-husband? Does he visit sometimes?"

"No. No, last time I heard he moved to Minnesota. We don't keep tabs. The children don't see him. He left us. Five years ago." Mrs. Allen explained with bitterness.

"Any boyfriend? Or lover perhaps?" Jane interrupted again.

"Excuse-me?"

Jane sighted. He wondered why people always bothered to act so indignantly around that question, or if some people genuinely didn't understand what he was saying.

"Are you seeing anyone in particular?" Lisbon intervened, tried to ruffle down the feathers.

"No. I'm single."

"Do you mind if I take a look at Pamela's room?" Jane asked nicely. She clearly minded, but unapologetic charm got him anywhere (usually).

While Jane was upstairs, and Lisbon had to try and quell the slight apprehension whenever Jane was left unsupervised at someone else's place, she resumed her questioning.

"How was Pamela doing in school? Did she have any problems? Bullying?"

"No. She never mentioned anything. She was a bit slow, but she was ok. School wasn't really her thing but she was ok."

*******

After a couple more questions, Lisbon and Jane left the Allen house, and went to ask the neighbor if she had seen Pamela yesterday. Of course, she hadn't. While Lisbon talked, Jane caught a glimpse of a little boy observing them while trying to hide behind a wall, before he dashed back from wherever he came from. Jane supposed he was Nelson, Pamela's little brother. He wanted to go talk to him but Lisbon was already closing the discussion with Mrs. Wilkinson and started back to the car, so Jane followed her.

Jane was getting comfy in the SUV. He suddenly jumped when Lisbon slammed the door shut. Sure the door was heavy (especially for her), but she had used a _lot _more force than necessary. He stared warily at her while she fastened her seatbelt.

"You ok?"

Lisbon whipped her head to him.

"Yes. I'm fine."She answered, surprised. "Why?"

"You're mistreating your beloved car. What did that door do to you?" Jane feigned hurt for the door.

Lisbon briefly shook her head, trying to make sense of what the quirky consultant was talking about. "Nothing. I- Nothing. The door's just heavy."

"Not more than usual."

Lisbon closed her eyes. _Why_ did he have to analyze _everything_? She was really not in the mood right now.

"Look. I feel like this is going to be a rather difficult case, so I'd appreciate if you kept the damages to a minimum this time. No outrageous behavior, no insane plan." She laid down the rules in her no-nonsense tone. She hated when she had to talk to him like he was some troublesome kid.

Jane listened to her with wide, innocent eyes. The look would actually be perfect if he was sporting that irritating smile. Lisbon tried hard to keep her hands squeezing the steering wheel and not his throat. She sighted.

"I want to close this case without having to worry about you being God knows where held at gunpoint by some nutter."

Jane's expression softened with understanding, simply offering her a soft 'ok'. Lisbon drove off. That's when realization hit him. He gritted his teeth. For someone as perceptive is he was, sometimes he surprised himself out how oblivious he could act. A kid had just been beaten to death, of course Lisbon would be on edge. He didn't know the details, but he knew that she had grown up with an abusive father. He knew Lisbon was a professional, that was her pride. She left emotions at the door when dealing with a case, and she would do no different with this one. But he was sure that deep down it was shaking her more than she would show, or admit for that matter. However, emotional involvement or not, she will not let it interfere with the case, and she will arrest whatever bastard had killed Pamela. She was amazing like that. He wished he had her strength. The strength that he tried to portray through cheerfulness and charm. Jane gripped the door handle.

"Don't worry Lisbon, I'll crack the case. I always do." He spoke softly. Lisbon glanced at him, thanking him with a nod and a shy smile.

After barely a few minutes, Jane's usual cheerful voice broke the silence. "So you _do _worry that I end up at gunpoint." He announced proudly, ridiculously large grin in place.

Lisbon couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"So what did you find in Pamela's room?" she steered back the conversation on safer grounds.

Jane's grin grew even wider. One, he knew that she was redirecting the conversation (the woman didn't bother with subtlety when it came to him), and two he was about to enjoy exposing all his brilliant discoveries to her undivided attention. He loved those moments, and right now it was just the two of them in the car, without anybody else she would have to listen to.

"Well…" Jane began, dragging the word for effect.

* * *

Reviews? _Please_? I'm really looking at improving my writing!


	2. Chapter 2

A huge thanks to all those who reviewed! I was very happy to see so many hits for this story, but also a little sad that so few of you bothered to review Also if you have any suggestions don't hesitate to share!

I've only seen up to _Bleeding Hearts_ and although I've read rumors about the new boss being a woman I haven't seen anything with her yet, and as much as I regret Minelli's departure I had to introduce a new boss. I imagined him to be a prick and contributing to making Lisbon's life a misery, but somehow it didn't turn out that way when it came to writing him. I want Minelli _baaaack_!! *snifflesniffle*

Anyway, usual **disclaimer**, I don't own anything, please don't sue.

* * *

The team was gathered around a couple of desks in a corner of the Santa Rosa police station, courtesy of Sheriff Gallagher. Van Pelt was furiously typing at her computer when Lisbon, followed by Jane, launched the discussion as soon as she arrived.

"Ok. What do we have? Van Pelt?"

"Pamela was seen leaving school at 3:30pm, after class. She waited for her little brother Nelson, who goes to the adjacent primary school, and they left together. A couple of teachers and classmates confirmed that they saw them leave school together, and were headed in the same direction as usual. The Allen's live nearby so they walk to school every day. Pamela wasn't part of any school activity. Apparently she was rather shy and reserved, she kept to herself, and although she got along fine with her classmates she wasn't close to anybody in particular. Her grades were average even though she was studious in class."

"Yes, the mother said she was 'slow'. Good. Cho?"

"I got the first results from the coroner. He confirms the death closer to 7:30-8pm. The death was caused by internal bleeding after a severe concussion, due to repeated blows to the head. She was punched, no object of any kind used as a weapon. Also the kid seemed to have been beaten regularly. She has several old bruises all over her body, but not her face. The beater took it to the next level this time." Cho delivered his explanations in his usual deadpan tone, and for once it was hard for him to remain expressionless, especially considering who he was talking to. However he knew his boss expected nothing if not professionalism. Jane was also scrutinizing Lisbon from where he stood leaning on the edge of Rigsby's allocated desk. If it weren't for her features' rehearsed stillness, he would have said that Cho's word didn't have more impact than usual. But Jane knew the significance of each and every twitch of Lisbon's face better than anyone else. He had methodically registered every single one of them from the first time he had met her, and delighted himself on those few occasions when he discovered yet a new one.

Lisbon just nodded and moved to look at Rigsby.

"The town doesn't have any record of domestic or repeated violence. However there are several cases of drunken violence. A certain Burt Coll is a regular. He was involved in 4 bar brawls, and taken into custody twice for aggressive behavior. But, uh, honestly, he doesn't really fit the kid beater type and doesn't seem to have any connection whatsoever with the Allen family. "

"We never know. Find out where this fine gentleman resides and go ask him a few questions." Lisbon leaned against the desk facing the group before she continued. "Mrs. Allen said she came back from work around 11pm, supposed the kids were in bed but didn't check. People at the restaurant she works at confirmed she was there working until 10:45, the end of her shift. It gives us a time frame of more than seven hours during which Pamela was killed. We can at least rule out the mother. She seems completely out of it and doesn't pay sufficient attention to her children, but she's not a beater." Lisbon heaved a heavy sight. "So far her little brother is the last one to have seen Pamela alive. We're going to have to talk to him."

And she really wasn't looking forward to it.

"I'll do that." Jane offered. He could see that Lisbon wasn't keen on the idea. Besides he knew how to deal with them, he loved kids. He would give the world to have his little girl back.

"Did you get a chance to look at Pamela's room?" Van Pelt asked him before the familiar grim thoughts invaded his mind.

"Yes I did." Jane straightened and took a few steps. "She did return home as usual. Her school bag was in her room. She also drew a lot, like most shy and reserved children do. She wasn't very happy but she seemed to be going with the flow. She wasn't old enough to really rebel, and with her mother taking the role of the victim she couldn't draw her attention for maternal affection." Jane wore his usual smile, but his eyes were steely blue . He despised people who acted as victims when they were simply to blame for their own actions.

"That's it?" Rigsby prompted when Jane went silent. Jane turned to Rigsby, Colgate smile plastered in place. "And…" his hand disappeared inside his jacket. "I found this."

But before he could expose his latest discovery, three people barged into their office space.

"Agent Lisbon?"

*******

_Men in black_. That's the first thought Jane had when he saw the two men and the woman coming forward, all three dressed in darks suits and sporting faces as friendly as prison cells. If he hadn't known any better, he would have said they were hypnotized. Or brainless.

"Agent Lisbon?" the apparent head of the trio called with flat condescension.

_Morons_. That's the second thought Jane had.

"Yes?"

Jane smiled. Lisbon was already annoyed.

"Agent Praid. We're also from the CBI. We're taking over the case."

_That_ sent a chill. Van Pelt straightened in her seat indignantly, Cho stared hard at the man, and Rigsby kept glancing from him to his boss. Jane's eyebrows skyrocketed into his hairline. _Oooh boy._

"Excuse-me?" Lisbon growled, glaring at the new arrivals. Jane knew that glare very well. It was the one that meant things were going to get very ugly very fast.

"We are taking over the case, under M. Rowman's orders."

"Why?" she snapped, forgoing any form of civility at the name of the blasted man.

"Because you, Agent Lisbon, would endangered the objectivity of the investigation by being emotionally compromised."

Lisbon opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She couldn't figure if she was pissed at the words themselves or at the tone they were delivered on. But, _Christ_ was she pissed! It took her all her will power not to yell.

"_Emotionally compromised_?! What the hell is this?!"

Praid ignored her outburst, and coolly opened a folder.

"You grew up with an abusive father after the death of your mother, did you not? It states here that you have been beaten up more than once, so were your brothers. At the age of 12 you were brought in emergency to the hospital, barely alive, after one of those beatings. Is that correct?"

His tone was poised, emotionless. Dead cold. Lisbon stared wide eyed at the man. She could feel her own face tight from shock and struggled to breathe evenly. Her knuckles dug into the wood of the desk to keep her grounded. _Keep calm_, she kept repeating to herself. She did _not_ become the youngest Senior Agent of the CBI, female no less, by acting like a firecracker. No. She was known for keeping a cool head no matter what the situation. And this was _not _going to change just because some unfeeling bastard came interrupting their investigation to throw one of her worst memory in her face and in front of her unit, the people who knew her to be a cool-headed, rational person.

It seems time had stopped. Everyone stood frozen in place. Cho, Van Pelt, and Rigsby were staring at their boss with a mixture of shock, indignation, and helplessness. They wanted to do something. Anything. They just had no idea what. Well, Jane knew what he wanted to do. Punch the guy's lights out. Which surprised him, because he wasn't one for violence over reason, but he was sure it would make him feel a lot better.

Sadly, Lisbon made the choice for him. "Let me call Rowman. I'll be right back." She said, whipping out her cell phone and stomping out of the office.

*******

"_Emotionally compromised?!_ With all due respect, Sir, I've dealt with death by beating before and I never had any problems. The cases were successfully closed. Now if there is any other reason why this case should be removed from our hands, please be honest. Political reasons, perhaps?"

Lisbon had tried to reign in her temper. Really, she had tried. Unfortunately her two minutes patience quota was up. She had been on the phone with Rowman for barely over five minutes and she was ready to explode. There was only one word that could sum up the excuses for removing her from this case. Bullshit.

"Agent Lisbon, I can assure you that there are no political strings pulling this case. But you and your team have been under a lot of stress recently, closing difficult cases one right after the other, and I think it wouldn't be such a bad idea to slow things down a bit. Just one case! And you'll be back on tracks in no time."

"Is this a suspension, Sir?"

Lisbon heard a long, heavy sight over the line.

"Call it whatever you want to call it. I need you to lay low for a while, get some rest. I don't want my agents wearing off."

"Let me rephrase that. You have been warned by higher ups that if your section was subject to one more complaint or law suits, they'd cut your budget. Hence the decision to keep us busy with paper work for a while to tone things down."

Well if she wasn't fired before, she certainly was now. _Good going, Teresa!_

There was a lengthy silence over the line. Lisbon was calculating how much she had on her savings account when Rowman spoke again.

"Lisbon, this is as much about you as it is about Jane. You're not doing so hot on the records either. And the last thing I need is your nervous breakdown along with Jane's latest wreckage."

Lisbon let her head fall backwards and pressed her phone to her shoulder. So that was it. She took a deep breath before bringing the phone back to her ear.

"Sir, at least let me prove that I can handle the case. Please. Besides, my team is more than capable to pursue the investigation."

"And what if you can't handle it?"

Lisbon closed her eyes, bracing herself. "Then I'll take full responsibility."

No answer.

Lisbon meticulously studied the cracks in the floorboard at her feet.

She was about to lose it when Rowman spoke again.

"You have three days."

Lisbon smiled in triumph. "Thank you, Sir."

But the line had already gone dead.

*******

Lisbon felt less triumphant when Praid's team was ordered to stay and 'give a hand'. _'We're happy to help.'_ Praid had said. She would have been a bit more inclined to believe him if she had detected an inkling of truth behind his shark smile. But orders were orders, and she'd had better follow them if she wanted to come back to work Monday morning. No problem. Just cooperate and everything will go smoothly.

And strap Jane to a chair if it means keeping him out of trouble. Or _causing_ trouble.

"Lisbon!"

_Speak of the Devil._

Jane walked up to her and stopping only inches from her, he whispered conspirationaly, " So how do we get rid of the Trooper Squad?"

"We don't." she replied, not bothering to lower her voice.

Jane chuckled, then leaned even closer and whispered again. "No, really. How?"

"Really, Jane. We don't. We don't annoy them, they won't annoy us. I'll brief them every day, keep them updated on the course of the investigation, and the sooner they understand we're fully capable of doing our job the sooner they will be out of our hair. The smoother it goes the less we'll see them." Lisbon finished with a pointed look.

Jane backed away with mock hurt. "I feel an undercurrent of meaning by the way you stressed those last words. Are you trying to tell me something, Lisbon?

"Jane…" Lisbon growled.

Jane offered her his million dollar smile. "Relax." He said, stretching his hands palms up, "I'll be on my best behavior."

_I'd like to see you try._

First day of investigation, and she already needed Advil.

*******

The bar brawler revealed to be a dead end. Amiable as a bear but innocent. Back to square one. Lisbon had briefed Praid and his two agents on what they had so far and assured them that she would get back to them as soon as they had something new. Which by the tone she had used meant _Don't bother us until then._ Jane was very familiar with Lisbon's various tones under meanings (being generally the one subject to them) and was eerily relieved to see that she was as happy to work with as if she'd be if dragging a boudler around.

Praid had looked Lisbon deep in the eye and said with an overly concerned voice "If there's anything I can do, let me know. We're here to help." Jane rolled his eyes so hard they almost popped out. Those were the kind of words people used when trying to help out a sad person, someone in need. He should know, he used to make a living using those words. He knew very well what the interfering prick was trying to do: comfort Lisbon in opening up to him, make her feel like he understood what she was going through. And as soon as she would let anything slip, say it reminded her of her tough childhood, Praid would jump on her like a starved hound and declare her 'emotionally compromised'.

_Oh, but he doesn't know Lisbon_, Jane thought wickedly. She was a tough nut to crack when it came to trust. Hell, she didn't even trust _him_ completely yet (although he had to admit he knew why), so she wasn't going to pour her heart out to some outsider trying to mess up with her case. Not his Lisbon.

"Could you stop smiling like that? It's creepy." Lisbon's voice came out of nowhere. Jane managed to tone down his features while the team gathered in their office once more.

"Where's the warden?" Rigsby asked with contempt.

"I don't know but the important thing is that they're not here. So let's talk while we can." Lisbon retorted. "Jane, what did you have to show us?"

Jane smiled. It wasn't often that Lisbon gave him the spotlight. _Beat that, Trooper._ "This." He said whipping out a little notebook from his jacket.

"It's a notebook." Cho observed.

"Yes. But it's not just a notebook. It's a diary. I found it tucked inside Pamela's nightstand drawer." Jane explained while opening the notebook. Van Pelt reached a hand and he passed it to her.

"Anything interesting?" Lisbon asked.

"No secret crush. It's mostly random thoughts and observations. A few reminders here and there."

"What's that?" Rigsby interrupted, pointing at something on the bottom corner of a page.

"121s? What does it mean?" Van Pelt leaned closer. Rigsby tried hard to ignore how closely they stood but couldn't help himself stealing a peek.

"Look, here's another one. And here." Cho noted, flipping through the pages and tilting the notebook so that Lisbon could see.

"Whatever it means it's linked to what happened on those days. Pamela was making a memo of some sort. And I bet that what happened on those days will tell who she was with when her mother wasn't there."

"The numbers get bigger, so I don't think it was a count down." Cho added.

Lisbon's head suddenly shot up as she inhaled sharply. The team stopped flicking through the notebook and stood at attention, waiting for her to speak.

"Lisbon?" Jane called tentatively.

Lisbon closed her eyes but remained silent. When she reopened them she faced her team.

"She was counting." she stated. She frowned, deep in thought. _Yes, it had to be it._

"She was counting the seconds passing while she was being beaten. By focusing on counting she remained conscious. And it probably helped her refrain from responding. Most beaters are motivated to go on if their victim put up resistance – it gives them an excuse."

Rigsby swallowed hard and only nodded. He rapidly cast his eyes back down on the notebook. He couldn't look his boss in the eye. He had no idea why but he felt like if he did he would be invading, intruding somehow, on her past, her privacy. Van Pelt offered a shy 'oh', fidgeting a little.

Jane kept his eyes on Lisbon a second longer, then shook himself out of it. _She doesn't pity, she wants to close this case._ "So whoever she stayed with on those days was the one beating her. See how the pattern remains constant? Those are probably the days the mother works evening shifts." He rapidly explained, gaining back the attention of the team.

"Let's go talk to the mother again. Van Pelt, go to the restaurant, get Mrs. Allen's schedule and confirmation she worked those shifts." Lisbon retorted. The team flurried back to action when Praid walked in.

"Found anything new?"

"M. Prat, how nice of you to drop by." Jane welcomed with a shiny broad smile. Rigsby coughed to hide his laugh and quickly scurried away.

"It's _Praid_. M. Praid." Praid corrected through clenched teeth. "Going somewhere?"

Jane opened his mouth, prepared for another witty remark, but Lisbon quickly cut him off. "Just a few more question for Mrs. Allen. Procedures, you know."

Praid nodded in understanding. "Let's go then."

_Wait. What?_ Jane stood unmoving, shifting his eyes to Lisbon. Surely she wasn't going to let the guy _invite_ himself to the visit?

Lisbon forced a tight smile, and darted for the parking lot, Praid hot on her tail.

Jane crashed back to reality a second later and dashed after them.

When he had caught up with them, Praid was climbing in the passenger seat. _His _seat.

_Oh no he doesn't!_

"Jane! Come on!" Lisbon called.

Jane climbed in the back seat, glaring daggers at Praid's skull. If he thought he'd get Lisbon's attention just because he was seating next to her (_his_ seat, dammit!), he had another thing coming.

Jane smirked evilly.

"So, M. Praid, where are your two colleagues?" Jane began.

_He'd regret messing with Patrick frigging Jane. _

*******

After the short drive to the Allen house, Lisbon was ready to shoot herself. Jane got out of the car with a satisfied sight. Praid slammed the door shut, seething. Jane was sure he could fry an egg on the agent's forehead. The consultant had monopolized the conversation during the entire drive, bombarding Praid with ridiculously mundane questions. Every time Praid had tried to address Lisbon, Jane came back two folds.

He was practically hyperventilating now, but it had been worth it. Praid hadn't been able to utter a word to Lisbon.

After all, Patrick Jane lived for revenge.

* * *

Thanks for reading, and please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you so much for the reviews, it's so encouraging!! I'm sorry I couldn't update sooner but college workload is not getting thinner… But fear not, I have the couple next chapters all planned out, so at least I don't have to fear the plot bunny running away. If you have any ideas though, please do share! (don't worry I'll credit you).

Perhaps I should warn any short stories fan, because this story is building up. It's not going to be wrapped up in two more chapters. I'm trying to build all the Jisbon goodness on what happens from the series and their respective personalities, as well as following a case plot. So no professing of undying love at the end of this chapter. However it really does help if you tell me if I'm going too fast or too slow.

**Disclaimer: No. I still don't own anything. Shocking, huh? **

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Lisbon walked to the Allen's porch and knocked on the door. Praid stood next to her, straight as a beam pole. He probably thought his posture showed hard-core-and-cool-professional. It rather screamed stick-up-the-ass Robocop. Her opinion. She wasn't entitled to share.

Mrs. Allen finally came to answer the door.

"Hello, Mrs. Allen. Sorry to disturb you, we just have a couple follow-up questions." Lisbon spoke with that calm and steady voice she used with victim's families. Polite and compassionate, yet firm and breaching no argument. Jane admired that voice. He had no idea how she did that. Whenever he so much as tried it, people always ended up refusing his request, and before he could stop himself he'd push them with some witty and disturbingly insightful comment, the person would take offense, start screaming or tell him to get lost or punch him, and that's when Lisbon would jump in to protect him and sooth the offended party, all the while shooting him all mighty Zeus' thunders with her eyes. He wanted to apply her technique, really he did. But somehow it never worked.

Jane was still trying to analyze any factors in this technique that he might have previously overlooked, when an alarm bell suddenly went off in a corner of his mind. Immediately refocusing on the present, he concentrated on his eyes…

… which were currently staring at Praid's left hand hovering on Lisbon's back. Her _lower _back.

Jane caught himself being taken aback; a very foreign feeling for him. Not a strong feeling, more like the bitter aftertaste of a chocolate you didn't know contained alcohol. As he followed Lisbon and Praid inside, he pushed the feeling away, mechanically filing it in a corner of his mind. It was an automatic process he applied for everything he experienced, something to reach back for and analyze when he had nothing else to do. It didn't mean it was significant.

It shouldn't.

***

Lisbon shifted in her seat again, barely repressing a huff. She knew this was going to be a waste of time. They were only supposed to drop by to hear the mother confirm that she had worked evening shifts for the days Pamela had made a note in her diary, and let Jane work his magic on the woman (this time without upsetting her) to glean any other clue. They had already painfully gone through all the routine questions, thank you very much. They had other, more productive things to be getting on with.

What had she been thinking? Of course Praid would have wanted to rerun the entire conventional interrogation, bad cop style. Know the proverbial sentence? Just because he looks like a prick doesn't mean he is one? Well Praid was the exception that confirmed the rule.

"You're sure about that?" she heard Praid ask Mrs. Allen. That was his technique. Doubting on a mildly condescending tone every answer the mother gave, aiming at destabilizing her so she'd slip or break down. Which was certainly working. Mrs. Allen would dissolve into tears any second now.

Lisbon realized she was wrinkling her pants where her fingers were clutched on her thigh. She let out a slow breath, smoothed the fabric and proceeded to check her surroundings in an attempt to distract herself from jumping to her feet and drag both Praid and Jane outside.

Jane who had gone off perusing the kitchen. Unsupervised. Lisbon glanced at the kitchen door. _Please, be that he's just making tea. _She couldn't handle Jane _and_ Praid at the same time. And she just wanted to get the hell out of here. She didn't need more observation time to know that she was standing in household which was barely holding together. She'd spent half her childhood in the same house, where the only person to look up to was too caught up in self-pity to bother with his children.

If she were honest, Lisbon had been glad Jane had monopolized the conversation during their drive here. It had been so blissfully annoying that her mind hadn't been able to wander off too far in the past. But she could already feel the cracks in her armor. She could already feel the memories pushing behind the door, desperate to come out and wreck havoc. And she couldn't afford that. They were working on finding Pamela's killer. They didn't have time for emotional therapy. So whenever the shadow of a heavy fist rushing towards her face and the cries of her little brother behind her got too loud in her head, she dug her nails in her thigh and forced herself to crash back to reality, welcoming the pain on impact.

This wasn't about her, this was about Pam.

Lisbon shook herself out of her trance and focused back on the action. This was bad. She _never _dozed off at work, especially not during an interrogation at someone else's house.

"Mrs. Allen."

Praid glared at Lisbon, more than a little miffed that she dared interrupt his interrogation. However, Lisbon didn't pay attention. She's had enough of this already.

Mrs. Allen shifted to face Lisbon, eyes murky with helplessness, obviously hoping to be done with the man.

"Mrs. Allen, the coroner says there are several bruises on your daughter's body, dating prior to the night of her death. _Large _bruises. We understand that she was not participating in any sport club. Was she involved in any other possibly violent activity? Are you sure she wasn't bullied, or was there someone in her entourage prone to aggressiveness?"

Lisbon almost hated the mother for her vacant incomprehensive stares. Mrs. Allen shook her head dully.

"No. Pam wasn't into sports. She'd just sit in her room."

"And what about someone in her entourage prone to violence. Was she afraid of anyone in particular?" Lisbon pushed.

"No! Pam was a good kid, never a bother. Yeah, sure she had bruises on her knees and arms, what kid doesn't? She was clumsy, is all. Just a little slow-"

"So you knew about the bruises, you've seen them?" Lisbon cut out. It wasn't a question. She knew this woman had just lost a child, but dammit if she didn't want to shake her for answers! _Calm down, Teresa. Breath. You're on a job here._

The mother too was starting to lose patience. "What are trying to tell me?! That someone was beating my daughter? No! I would've known. I'm her mother! And I never laid a hand on her!"

_Just because you never bothered. _

Lisbon patience was seriously fraying. In fact, she was fuming. Playing the victim card never sat well with her, and she found herself wishing she had sent in Cho instead.

Thanks to Praid's tact, Lisbon didn't dwell much longer on her thoughts. In the short time she was deafen by her anger, he had riled up the mother enough that by the time she threw them out she was bawling hysterically.

As Lisbon tried to calm Mrs. Allen and make a dignified exit, Jane came darting out of the kitchen, intrigued by all the fuss, and now that the senior agent had her troops back together she was the first to reach for the door, and stepping outside, Jane close behind her.

_Was that his hand down her back!?_

"Well that went down smoothly." Lisbon shot sarcastically at Praid.

The cop merely looked at her like her opinion hardly mattered, standing tall and proud. Lisbon nearly scoffed. _Men_. If he thought he could intimidate her with his height, he was even more stupid than she initially thought.

Apparently the defiance in Lisbon's eyes didn't sit well with the other senior agent. Praid opened his mouth, no doubt to assert his authority, when Lisbon's phone rang. She whipped her cell from her pocket, barely concealing the triumph glittering in her eyes. Her voice was almost cheeky when she answered.

"Lisbon."

Van Pelt. _Good_. The younger agent said that the people at the restaurant confirmed that Mrs. Allen did work those evening shifts and never missed a day.

_Great. _Now they really had no way out from questioning a six year old boy.

"Well?" Praid's prissy voice inquired.

"_Well _we're left with questioning Nelson, the victim's little brother. He's probably the last person to have seen Pamela alive." Lisbon explained, marching towards the S.U.V.

"You can't be serious. A _kid_?! That's a waste of time. I doubt he'll help much. You should focus on more credible witnesses."

Lisbon bristled. "Just because he's a kid doesn't mean he's stupid." She snapped, yanking the driver's door open.

Praid shot her a disbelieving look, his hand coolly pulling the passenger door open…

…only to find Jane already seated there, seatbelt buckled, flashing an artless million dollar smile.

***

Jane settled deeper into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, closing his eyes and enjoying the sounds an indignant Agent Praid was making as he noisily climbed into the back seat. Jane certainly wasn't above gloating. In fact he rejoiced in it whenever it felt safe enough to do so. Gloating in front of Lisbon within CBI walls was the best, as there were too many compromising witnesses for her to inflict him bodily harm. So the only thing she could do was glare at him, all Hell's fire burning in her lovely eyes, then stomp away to her office. She didn't have any idea of how endearing she looked when like this. But he never ventured to tell her how beautiful she looked in all her glorious anger, because even he thought that was pushing his luck too far. So he would just settle for enjoying her irate retreating form, turn to his couch and exhale loudly with satisfaction as he sank in the cushy leather. He could count on these moments to bring him peaceful slumber.

But right now, even though satisfied (watching Praid almost swallow his glottis from indignation had been priceless), he doubted he'd enjoy peaceful slumber. First of all, because the drive back to the station would be entirely too short, but mostly because he couldn't help his need to analyze. He had heard Lisbon taking over the interrogation while he was looking for making himself a cup of tea in the kitchen. Her tone had been professional and understanding as usual, but it turned cold in a second and Jane's trained ears had perked up at the hardness of her voice. Jane had taken great advantage of his blindness episode to hone his other senses. And it had paid off. He knew the professional in Lisbon would never let her frown in front of a suspect, and even less a victim's mother. But the harshness in her voice had told much more than the entire catalogue of her frowns. When she had told him she felt it was going to be a difficult case, he interpreted that as her usual warning not to cause trouble, and perhaps an unconscious admission that she'd be quite touchy. He didn't think it would have affected her that much that quickly. Despite appearances Lisbon was a very patient woman. There had to be something else, something deeper than that.

He would do his job, he would find out who killed Pamela.

But he had found another mystery much more interesting to unravel.

Jane knew that underneath her by-the-book behavior Lisbon was often balling her fists in her pockets to avoid punching suspects in the face. And he admired her for that. How could she put up with people's crap day after day and not blow an artery? He rarely held anything in. When he despised someone he let it show and be known (which often did not go without consequences). When it was too much for him to take, Lisbon always managed to be there for him. She knew when to talk and when to remain silent; when to give him space when he was confronted with his past, and when to offer comforting words. She cared a lot, that much was obvious, but she wasn't very good at showing it. Well more like she _wouldn't_ show it. She was always awkwardly adorable in her attempts at comfort, but they were undeniably genuine. Her eyes, those wide beautiful green eyes oozed honesty. He never did anything like that. He could never be there for her the way she was there for him. For someone who talked so much he could never find the words. He would just stare at her, attempting to convey something and failing miserably. He was sure she only saw it as another opportunity for him to read her, another intrusion of the mentalist jumping at any sign of weakness. If he could just give her as much as she gave him, just once, not for a case but for _her_, if he could show her that he was not always profiteering.

Yes, he wanted to find out about her past, and he would be lying if he said it had absolutely nothing to do with sheer curiosity. But he wanted to know who she had been. He knew about Agent Lisbon, the tough cop, the former rookie extraordinaire. The _rock star _as Van Pelt put it. But he was growing more and more curious about Teresa. The woman who danced to the Spice Girls to forget about the world outside, the child who'd had her world turned upside down and had to become an adult in one day. The one person who had _not_ been dazzled by his charms from the moment they'd met, who had discreetly scoffed at his "psychic powers", who's first thought had been "_This guy is going to make my life a lot harder"_, rather than _"Ohmygod he's incredible!"_. The one person who had no illusion about him, from the glittery persona to the broken mess. Who didn't ask of him more than to do his job without causing her to rip her hair out.

He usually didn't mind barging into someone's personal life and poke and prod until he got what he wanted, now he found an uncharacteristic guilt about decrypting Lisbon's life. On the one hand he was sure it would be a lot of fun watching her blush and steam from embarrassment when he'd find out about all her little secret, but on the other he'd learned that the team weren't just people amongst the masses to him. They were friends, probably more genuine than he ever had. But the difference with Lisbon was that he could read them like an opened book. They didn't bother building walls around them to hide their secrets from him. Or if they did it didn't last long. Rigsby and Van Pelt's admirable attempt at hiding their relationship had been adorable, even though downright pathetic (Rigsby had concentrated so hard on this "secret", it stood out like neon light). Cho didn't try dodging questions about his past, and had easily let him in his inverstigation on the murder of his former Avon Park Playboys best friend.

The bottom line was that they trusted him.

Except Lisbon.

He just didn't know for sure. She trusted him for some things, like driving her around in his contraption of a car. But he didn't know he she trusted him as a friend. And this was gnawing at the back of his mind. He knew that if he wanted her to open up to him, at least a crack, he would have to compromise. Jane didn't compromise, not when it came to people. He took from people without giving away anything of him. That's why Lisbon would never let him in past a certain point. Past the _personal _point. Knowing what he had to do didn't lessen the anxiety of the prospect. Because compromising would mean he would have to reevaluate his relationship with the Senior Agent.

And Jane was not ready to open this Pandora's box. Not yet.

"Earth to Jane!"

Jane bounced in his seat, recoiling from Lisbon's shouting.

"What?" he answered uncertainly.

Lisbon was looking at him with a mix of concern, irritation, and a twinge of amusement. "I called you three times. You weren't reacting." She peeked at him from the corner of her eyes. "You okay?" She asked gently.

Jane relaxed back in his seat, facing the road. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine, thank you." Then he turned to face his boss. "So why were you screaming my name at the top of your lungs, my dear?" Back to the cheeky persona. That would do the trick. And who cares if Praid is right behind them. After all she _had_ called him.

Lisbon concentrated hard on the car in front of them, refusing to rise to the bait. She certainly hadn't missed his thinly veiled innuendo and hoped that the curtain of hair down her face would conceal the warmth of her cheeks. She quickly glanced sideways at the consultant. His smirk widened. _Stupid hair._

"I said we're going to have to talk to Nelson." She snapped.

"Okay." Jane answered cheerfully.

Lisbon decided to ignore the lightness in his voice and focused on parking the massive car in front of the station. Praid wasted no time climbing out.

"Agent Lisbon", he called out, making a show of re-adjusting his jacket, "I have a report to write. I'll see you at the debriefing." Then he walked inside. Jane and Lisbon were still standing by the car.

"You have to debrief them?" Jane asked incredulously. Lisbon pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows in annoyance, meaning that _yes_, she had to debrief Praid and his team, and she wasn't enjoying it. Jane nodded in understanding and began walking.

"Jane." Lisbon called him back. He turned around and waited for her to speak. She walked up to him and spoke quietly.

"Praid isn't too keen on interrogating the little brother, so we're going to go back to the Allen's, _discreetly_, and talk to Nelson before he has the time to interfere. Go get Van Pelt. I'm going to call the mother and try to get back in her good books."

Jane beamed and practically skipped back inside. He _loved_ a conspirative Lisbon. It was so rare. She should do this more often.

He was right. Agent Lisbon wasn't as by-the-book everyone thought she was.

Lisbon watched Jane suspiciously as she took her phone and dialed the Allen's number. She would have to keep an eye on Jane. Why did he have that hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar look when she had startled him out of reverie on their way back?

_He must be up to something_.

* * *

I'm sure I've pumped the sentence "_This guy is going to make my life a lot harder" _from memory of another fic, so if anybody recognizes that phrase as their own, credit goes to them and apologies for borrowing it without permission.

Other than that, see that green button right underneath…?


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry, as I re-read through the chapters I kinda notice the wacky timeline. If it seems unclear to you (if you bother at all) this chapter takes place the afternoon of the second day of investigation.

And thank you so very much for the reviews, they make me so happy. I'm very relieved that you guys find this realistic enough and in character. Thank you!!

**Disclaimer: Same as always. Wish I owned the script, but I don't.**

* * *

Lisbon braced herself and knocked on the door._ Here we go again. _Mrs. Allen had graciously allowed the Senior Agent and _her _team to come back and pursue the follow-up questions (well either that or the poor woman would be arrested for obstruction to the law). Hearing footsteps coming towards the door, Lisbon shot Jane her most pleading look and whispered: "_Please_, behave yourself."

Jane simply stared back, eyebrows raised, eyes wide and innocent. The door swung open.

"Mrs. Allen, thank you for receiving us again. This is Agent Van Pelt, and you've already met M. Jane."

Jane waved slightly in acknowledgment. Although the woman did let them in she was undeniably still upset at what had happened in the morning. Van Pelt jumped in with the most soothing voice she could muster to ruffle down the feathers.

"Mrs. Allen, we understand that this is still a very difficult time for you but we would need to speak with you son, Nelson. Is he here?"

As if on cue, a load roar came tumbling down the stairs and into the living room. A little boy with a messy tuft of curly brown hair appeared, rolling a toy sports car - which had obviously been tested in the mud - on every piece of furniture he came across, vrooming and screeching with every acceleration and curbs. His mother called him to quiet down, but the order didn't faze his energy. Mrs. Allen turned back to the agents.

"Look, whatever you want to ask my boy I'm hearing too. He's got nothing to hide from me."

"We understand, Ma'am, and weren't insinuating as such, but-" Van Pelt was interrupted by a particularly intense braking.

"Nelson! Quiet down or go to your room!" the mother shouted.

Jane opened his mouth. Taking control of a situation was his forte. Except when Lisbon suddenly took off for the living room. Intrigued, he remained pinned in place, watched in silence, rubbing his fingers together. Then he followed. Van Pelt couldn't help but smile. She loved watching Jane follow Lisbon everywhere like an overenthusiastic puppy. She tightened her lips in an attempted to hide the smile.

"He's shy, you know. He's not going to talk to strangers just like that." Mrs. Allen asserted confidently. Van Pelt nodded for show and proceeded to the living room, where she saw her boss crouched in front of the little boy.

Lisbon gently caressed Nelson's hair, causing him to stop mid-rally and look at her, frozen. He clutched the toy to his chest. "Hey buddy. What've you got there?" Lisbon asked in a low, soft voice.

"A super-rally sports car." Nelson answered timidly.

"Wow! It looks like it's really fast. How fast can it go?" The child saw the interest sparkling on the woman's face.

"Super fast! It can go in the sand too!" he answered proudly.

Jane was struck. The tough as nails, no-nonsense agent discussing grand rally toy cars?! He had _never_ seen this side of Lisbon before. But apparently she would never seize to surprise him. He smiled in wonder and came to crouch next to her, looking at the boy very seriously. The kid was hanging to those blue eyes, breathless, waiting for the man to speak.

"But can it go in the grass?" Jane asked dubitatively.

The boy straightened to all his height, rising to the challenge. "Yes, it can!"

"Mmmh. You're sure about that?" Jane asked again, eyebrows scrunched up, appearing to be genuinely concerned at the plausibility of the claim. "Why don't you show me?"

Nelson's eyes doubled in size. A massive grin illuminated his face before he darted for the front lawn. There wasn't a minute to waste.

Jane quickly stood up to follow him. Mrs. Allen reached an arm, ready to protest.

"Perhaps it's better if your son isn't around, we need to talk to you." Lisbon jumped in with an endearing smile.

"Oh. Okay." The woman turned back to the living room and sat down on the sofa, clearly taken off guards. Lisbon inhaled deeply and glanced up.

And stopped breathing.

Jane was by the door, staring at her, boring is eyes into hers. Despite the distance it felt like his face was only an inch away. She could only see his blue eyes.

Then she realized he was waiting for something. Waiting for her approval to be left alone with Nelson and ask him what he could possibly know about his sister's murder.

Lisbon answered with an imperceptible nod.

Jane stared back, perhaps a second longer than necessary, quirking the corner of his mouth in a barely there smile, and stepped outside.

That second longer…

Lisbon shook her head and turned to the living room.

Maybe it was just her imagination.

For sake of form, Lisbon apologized once again for their earlier behavior, stressing the fact that it had been her first time working with Agent Praid and she hadn't anticipated how he would handle the situation. Yes, it was low, especially for her, to wash her hands off her responsibilities, but cooperation hadn't seem to rank high on Praid's list anyway, so let him deal with it if the woman ended up formulating a complaint. She would have enough dealing with the complaints that would inevitably be formulated against Jane.

With just a look, Lisbon prompted Van Pelt to get on with the questions. Van pelt straightened in her seat and began.

"Ma'am, is there anyone who comes regularly to your house? Friends, neighbors, colleagues?"

"Not really. The only one who comes often enough is Arthur. Arthur Winsfield. I know him from middle school. He also lives in Santa Rosa suburb. We kept in touch really just because we know each other from way back and he's a teacher at the kids' school."

"You told us that you weren't involved with anyone at the moment? Romantically _and _sexually? We really must know if this was a strictly platonic relationship." Lisbon asked.

Mrs. Allen looked baffled again for a second. "We're just friends, I promise." she insisted. Lisbon nodded understandingly. "Okay. Just covering our basis."

"Do your colleagues know your family? Have your children met any of them?" Van Pelt continued.

"No. My colleagues and my boss know I have children but that's about it. We celebrated Nelson's last birthday there, at the restaurant, because I had a discount, but that's the only time they've been there. I spend enough of my time there already."

"Is there any other place you often took Pamela to?" Lisbon interrupted again.

Mrs. Allen shook her head feebly. "No, not particularly. She'd come shopping with me sometimes, but most of the times I do the groceries when the kids are in school."

"What about during your free time? There's a park nearby. Did you ever bring Pamela there? Or did she go on her own?" Lisbon continued. Van Pelt thought she was supposed to do the questioning, but judging by the tightness of her boss' features and her sharp professional tone she considered it safer to keep her head down and scribble down anything interesting.

"No. Why?"

Lisbon wanted to slap her. This had been a genuine question. As in '_why should I bring my children to the park?'_. Lisbon gladly admitted she didn't go all gooey and soft in front of children, but children were meant to play, to have fun, to chase each other around playing make-belief. Apparently this woman didn't deem it an approvable investment of her time to take her children outside to run around. To spend a family day at the park.

The kind of day that had died along with her mother.

Lisbon bit her bottom lip, focusing her gaze on the window rather than on the woman sitting in front of her. She made an effort not to spit the words in her face.

"So during your free time you stay at home, and so do your children."

"Yes. I don't want them outside when I'm not there." Mrs. Allen answered. Her face contorted with pain. "Look what happened to my little girl!" she choked in tears.

Suddenly all of Lisbon's anger evaporated, and she was left only with the familiar guilt of watching victim's families in pain. She hated it, being the messenger of death, berating hurt innocents with questions until they had enough information. But it didn't compare to sending a murderer to prison, getting what he or she deserved. To setting things right.

She knew she had control issues.

"I'm sorry." She said truthfully. She reached out a hand, hesitated, and settled it on Mrs. Allen's knee, comforting. The mother looked up into her eyes. "I'm sorry" Lisbon repeated softly. Mrs. Allen pursed her lips, trying to stop the tears from flowing, and nodded.

***

Outside, Jane had been sitting on the grass, watching Nelson as he raked his car through the dirt in series of complex turns. It was easier that the kid was a boy. It helped blocking out memories of what seemed like another lifetime, when he would be sprawled on his stomach in the grass with his daughter, exploring their garden's wildlife, analyzing the latest beetle of their finding. A time when their home was his sanctuary, where nothing could possibly happen to them, keeping the dangers and the ugliness of the world at bay.

And if what happened to Pamela was anything to go by, the little boy playing in front of him wasn't protected by the walls of his own home either.

"Did Pamela play cars with you?" Jane asked. Nelson shook his head no, his curls flying around.

"She doesn't play cars." He answered.

"No? What did she play then?"

"She colors in books."

"Did she color in books when your mom is working?"

"Sometimes. Mom doesn't want us to stay outside after school, so we stay in the living room. I can play around because Pam stays on the sofa with her coloring book." In other words the girl did take care of her little brother and looked after him.

"What do you like to do in school?" Jane continued.

"When the teacher reads us stories. Sometimes Pam reads me stories too because I'm not very good at reading yet."

Jane forced a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Nelson kept using the present tense. His sister had always been there. Why should she suddenly vanish and be talked about as something from far away?

Nelson paused, the toy car immobile in his small hand. "She won't be reading me stories anymore, will she?" He asked in a defeated voice. His big brown eyes were staring at Jane's, big eyes only asking for honesty. Jane had no problem fooling adults. They were desperate to hear only what they wanted to hear. So he would tell them, and they would be eating from the palm of his hand. But children were disarming. They left you with nothing but guilt, because they'd rather have the painful truth than a beautiful lie. And he was envious, for being able to swallow that pain into such a small body and take it in, and accept it, and go on.

Jane bit his tongue. He _had_ to remind himself of where he was _now_.

"What about Pam, what did she like to do in school?"

Nelson didn't answer and remained silent for a while, dragging his car back and forth in the mud, the tiny plastic driver inside no doubt drowning by now.

"Pam doesn't like school. They say she's slow and good for nothing."

Jane's eyebrows shot to his hairline. _Well that's shocking, coming from a kid_.

"Who's '_they'_?"

"It's what Arthur says to Mom."

Jane racked his brain but couldn't remember encountering any Arthur in the investigation so far.

"Who's Arthur?"

"He's a teacher."

"You call your teachers by their name?"

"Nooo!"Nelson dragged out the word, as if the answer was so glaringly obvious. Jane stiffled a smirk at the child's exasperation, and frowned instead, trying his best to look as serious as Nelson. It's insane how children can make you feel dim-witted sometimes.

"Mom said that we could call him by his first name because he's a friend." Nelson got up, and conscientiously wiped his dirty hands on his pants.

"Oh. Well, that makes sense." Jane said to the empty space left by the boy, before getting up and following him back towards the house.

"Nelson."

The boy turned around on the last step of the porch.

"Does Arthur come to your house sometimes?"

Nelson nodded.

"Is your mom here when he comes?"

Still remaining silent, Nelson shook his head.

"You don't like Arthur?" It wasn't really a question, so Jane wasn't surprised when Nelson shook his head no again. Jane felt it, that thrill burgeoning in his nerves, the electricity tingling in his muscles that told him he was close to the great revelation, close to solving the case. But before Jane could ask the one question that would reveal if this Arthur was the one who beat up an 11 year old girl to death, the front door opened, and the mother, Lisbon and Van Pelt stepped out.

"Ladies, perfect timing. Nelson and I are done testing the car. You'll be happy to hear that it's very efficient in the grass." Jane clapped his hands together and announced cheerfully, smiling at the kid. Lisbon immediately understood that the consultant had managed to question the little guy and prayed he had gotten vital clues. She turned to thank the mother and assured her that they would call as soon as they had anything new. Van Pelt offered a tight smile to Mrs. Allen and proceeded down the steps, followed by Lisbon.

When she reached Nelson, Lisbon couldn't help herself. She stooped to the boy's level and once again brushed her fingers through his hair. "I'll see you soon, okay? Bye-bye."

Nelson returned a shy but broad smile. "Bye-bye."

Lisbon smiled back, then walked away.

Walking towards her agents she saw Van Pelt with a weird look on her face, unnaturally still. She had gotten to know the rookie of the team by now, and could tell she was working on speaking her mind or keep quiet. Amusing as it was to watch the conflict of emotions play on her face, Lisbon didn't have much patience left for the day and wished the younger woman would just spit it out. Besides, her smile was getting contagious.

"What?" She asked as she passed by her.

"Nothing!" Van Pelt blurted a little too fast. She tried to regain her composure, but couldn't help her honest streak. " It's just that… I've never seen you with kids before, and I just thought it was cute. I'm sure you'd be a really good mother." she rambled without thinking.

Lisbon stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes went wide like saucers, and she could feel her face burning up.

Jane burst into laughter. Like that, frozen in place, she looked like a rabbit caught in the light, expect with extra-large green eyes. He was still laughing his head off while Van Pelt sputtered, trying to explain herself. "It was a compliment! I didn't mean to embarrass you. I just thought you were really sweet with that little boy… because I've never seen you interact with kids before."

Lisbon self-consciously patted down her hair, gradually regaining her bearings. She had to stop Van Pelt's rattling. "It's okay, don't worry."

But it did nothing to abate the embarrassment. Only solution: a prompt escape. Lisbon strode to the car as fast as she could, but Jane caught up with her in two long strides, and still wearing that annoying large grin, like he was about to burst any moment. Van Pelt also caught up and matched her pace, straight as a ram-rode. _Damn tall people. _

"I have nieces and nephews." Lisbon mumbled. Hopefully that would shake them off.

Jane and Van Pelt glanced at each other over their boss' head (bless her short height) and exchanged a smile. Lisbon was either pissed or looking for a rock to crawl under. Jane guessed it was the latter. Van Pelt was short of cooing. But they were both very aware of the fact that the fierce Agent Lisbon had (almost) willingly shared a detail of her personal life, something that would _never _have trespassed their office grounds. Something big.

And Jane couldn't possibly let the opportunity pass. "At first anybody would think you'd be allergic to children, but now I can see it clearly. I bet you're the favorite aunty baking cookies with the kids and ending getting flour on your nose and marshmallow in your hair and not noticing until evening." He spoke with this all-knowing tone that grated on Lisbon's nerves, like she was one of those people he would analyze to impress the gallery. She jiggled the car keys into the car door, trying to get out of this predicament sooner than later. He'd nailed it right on target. Lisbon's blush returned ten folds. She could feel it, tried to fight it, but could do nothing to control it, which annoyed her immensely. She glared at the lock. The damn thing wouldn't open. Resentment was added to shame in the tinge of red on her cheeks.

"You're blushing."

_Not shit, Captain Obvious!_

Lisbon glared at him and his excessively large grin. "Do you _have_ to announce it to the world?"

His smile turned into the million-dollar jackpot.

One day she wouldn't be able to stop her fist from wiping off that grin.

***

Van Pelt's fingers flew across her laptop at top speed, searching on the school's website for names and pictures of the teaching staff. Lisbon was walking back and forth, trying not to crush the cup of coffee in her hands.

"Anything?"

"I'm almost there."

"We've questioned Pamela's teachers. None of them were Arthur Winsfield." Rigsby stated, perched on Van Pelt's desk.

"Mrs. Allen didn't say Winsfield was Pamela's teacher. She said that he was _a _teacher at her kids' school." Lisbon explained.

"But he knew her well enough." Jane mumbled, eyes lost in the distance. Lisbon stopped pacing and turned to look at him, waiting for an explanation. When nothing more seemed to be coming, she stretched her arms, motioning for him to continue. "Jane?"

Jane swiftly turned on his heels, right in front of her.

"Nelson said Pamela didn't like school, that she wasn't faring well, because he heard Arthur told his mother that Pamela was '_good for nothing'_. Which means that even though he wasn't her teacher Arthur knew about Pamela's grades."

"Maybe he heard it from other teachers." Cho offered, stoically standing next to Rigsby.

"Got it!" Van Pelt exclaimed. Lisbon immediately leaned next to her to see the computer screen.

"Arthur Winsfield, teaching 7th and 8th grades." Van Pelt read.

"Neither Pamela's nor Nelson's classes." Lisbon interjected.

Jane came to stand behind Van Pelt to see the picture of the man. M. Ordinary. Lean face, dull brown hair probably on their path to grey, non-descript blue eyes, thin framed glasses. Regular portrait picture, so hard to tell, but not an apparent muscular frame under that pale yellow shirt.

It screamed math teacher from miles away.

Math teacher, but not particularly scary. Jane narrowed his eyes on the picture, staring at M. Ordinary. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

_What could that man had possibly done to those kids if Nelson was afraid of him?_

"Jane!"

Jane shot up straight, his head snapped up to Lisbon. Her brows were furrowed and she was looking at him expectantly. He hadn't been listening.

"Did you hear what I said?"

_That would be a no. _Jane glanced at Rigsby who was trying not to smile. The big guy loved the rare times when Jane was caught off guards. There was only one way out of this. Jane straightened, rubbed his fingers together, and proceeded to look like he possessed all the knowledge in the world.

"Nelson is afraid of that man. Either because he saw or heard something he shouldn't have. But it didn't seem Arthur Winsfield ever harmed Nelson. He didn't seem… scared enough."

Jane looked at Lisbon. "More like he couldn't talk about something." He wondered, his eyes locked with hers.

Lisbon was riveted to his stare. She was doing it again, standing on the precipice, on the verge of falling into his eyes.

She slammed her cup on the desk, startling Van Pelt.

"Okay. Rigsby, Cho, go to Winsfield's house, ask him where he was on Friday night and how come he hasn't shown his face when the daughter of his supposedly good friend was murdered. I'll be in debriefing with Praid." Lisbon delivered her orders, avoiding Jane's eyes, and walked out of their office.

They all watch her retreating back.

"How is she doing?" Rigsby asked, careful to keep his voice down.

"Not good." Cho answered. His even tone was unnerving, but by the way he had yet to detach his eyes from his boss' back, Jane knew he was worried.

Jane knew that sometimes he tried a little too hard to read her. Lisbon was easier to read when she tried to cover things up, when usually people were transparent when not bothering to hide anything. But of course she would have to be the other way around. And she had tried a little too hard not to react to his words, tried to keep the mask of cool on while attributing their tasks. Her eyes had hardened, the green a little less vivid. What really worried him was that she wasn't bothering to try and fool them.

"Having to deal with those idiots probably doesn't help either. I heard what happen with Praid. They're not doing anything, but they still manage to get on her nerves." Rigsby grumbled.

Van Pelt remembered Lisbon crouched in front of Neslon, how she had had no difficulty matching his height. She swallowed. "She's petite as an adult. Imagine what she must have been like as a kid." She shook her head. "How did she live through that?"

No one answered. They didn't have to ask what she was talking about.

Then Cho sprang into action. "Let's go."

Rigsby hastily put his jacket on and followed, adjusting his holster.

"I'll come with!" Jane called out, right on Rigsby's trail.

***

"M. Winsfield, CBI! We'd like to ask you a few questions!" Rigsby shouted through the front door for the third time, knocking impatiently.

"Don't bother, he's not here." Cho said, looking around.

"Which is a good thing!" Jane exclaimed, pushing Rigsby out of the way so he could reach the door.

"Why?" Rigsby asked, dumbfounded. He would _never _understand how that guy worked.

But it all clicked in place when he watched Jane fiddling straightened paperclips in the door lock.

"Because we can make sure that he isn't laying hurt in the house, and not because we can check if he's got anything incriminating." Cho answered ironically.

Jane looked up at him with a lopsided grin, still working on the lock. "Aha!" With a barely audible click it gave way. Jane cautiously pushed the door open and stepped inside, Cho and Rigsby right behind him, their hands poised on their holsters at the ready.

"Hello?"

No answer. Jane doubted the man was hiding somewhere in there, which meant time for snooping had officially begun.

Rigsby went upstairs to secure the place and took time to look for anything interesting, although making sure it looked like nothing had ever been touched. Cho was downstairs with Jane. After quick inventory of the kitchen, he proceeded to the living room. Rigsby came down the stairs to join him.

"Nothing upstairs. Apparently the guy lives alone. One bedroom, another room for clothes, an iron table and a bunch of things he probably didn't know where else to put."

"Anything interesting?" Cho asked.

Rigsby cocked his head to the side. "Not anything more than perfectly ironed shirt. The guy doesn't seem to have any other hobbies then keeping things in order." He sighted. "Where's Jane?"

"In the study next to the living-ro-"

"Who the hell are you?!"

Cho and Rigsby whipped around, guns in hand.

Arthur Winsfield was standing in the entrance with paper bags full of groceries in his arms.

Cho reached for his badge.

"Guys! I found it! We've got him, the miserable bast-"

Jane stopped shouting, taking in the scene in front of him. He'd come out of the study, triumphantly brandishing pieces of paper. He felt his smile diminish when he understood whom it was standing in the entrance. Jane inhaled deeply, opened his mouth, but after a couple tentitatives couldn't find anything more helpful to say than "Oops."

* * *

Yey! Jisbon glimpses! I know, it's not much, but there will be lots of it in the next chapter. So while you wait, do review! (I don't do subtlety when it comes to reviews)

You do notice that chapters are getting longer. Other good news, this was the last long interrogation to the Allens you've had to suffer.


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